


The Broken Bra

by Quarkle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Fluff, Werewolves, half naked reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-19 13:04:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2389253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quarkle/pseuds/Quarkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You got hurt on a hunt and complain about your bra being broken while Dean patched you up. It was a good bra!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Broken Bra

**Author's Note:**

> This fic happened, because one of my bras decided to poke me and fall apart. It was traumatic. I hope my old bra will now rest in peace in bra heaven. Where all the good ones live happy ever after.

"Ow ow ow! Dean, be gentle with me." 

"I already AM as gentle as possible. Don't be such a wuss."

"I'm not–" you started, but stopped with the needle going through your skin again, along the cuts on your shoulder. The cuts were deep and you lost a lot of blood, but the cuts didn't make you angry.   
Before Dean pulled on the thread and pushed it through again, you readjusted yourself. You sat astride of a chair with a towel over the back rest, so neither Dean nor Sam couldn't watch your front when they walked through the room. Your bare back was all you gave them to see.

“Almost done, just two more stitches.” Dean said. “Take another sip of that bottle.”

Right. The bottle of vodka. Dean took it from you and used it beforehand to disinfect the wound without warning. What an ass. Nevertheless you were thankful for the reminder. You loosened your grip on the chair, your knuckles cracking as you reached for the bottle and took two sips out of it. The liquid was burning down your throat as Dean put the needle through you again. You winced in pain.  
“I swear Dean, if you do that more than once now you won’t see any alcohol for a week.”

“Come on, you’ve had worse. Remember when that demon smashed you against the wall and a tiny pipe went through your side? We had to take you to the hospital for that.”

“Yeah” you agreed with him. “But the thing is: my bra didn’t get destroyed that time.”

Silence fell over the room. You waited for the pain of the last stitch Dean was going to make, but nothing came. Slowly you turned your head to look over your intact shoulder at Dean, but you couldn’t turn it enough without more pain to look at Dean. “Something wrong?”

“You are angry at the werewolf, not for hurting your shoulder, but for destroying your bra?” Dean blatantly said.

 “It was a good bra!” you wined.

“You serious?”

“Yeah. It was one of my favourites. You know how you always have that one piece of clothing you want to put on 24/7? That one that fits so well, that is so comfortable even being naked sucks?” You praised your loss.

While you kept rambling on, Dean made the last stitch and put a plaster on the sealed wound.

“I don’t think I’ll find another bra like that EVER again!” You took another shot from the bottle of vodka.

Dean sighed. You felt how annoyed he was with your drunk talk – well, slightly drunk talk. You just started drinking. “You’re done. You can get up.” he said and stashed everything back in the first aid kit.

You kept sitting on the chair, bottle on one hand. You were about to get up, when a cold breeze came over your back. “Dean? Could you pass me your shirt?”

“Go and get your own.” he answered.

“Dean. I can’t. You have to help me.” You put the bottle back on the table and crossed your arms in front of your chest as much as you could without reopening the wound, just enough to cover your boobs. You got up from the chair and turned around.

Dean was still with his back to you. “First you wine about your bra, and now you want my shirts.” he said.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t wear one of my as they are t-shirts. I need one of your button-down ones. I can’t lift my arm that high.”

Dean turned around and saw you standing there, topless with crossed arms. His eyes didn’t stay on your face for long, but went south. Silence fell over the two of you, and Dean’s staring made you feel uncomfortable. You coughed once to get his attention back to your face.

“Button-down shirt, Dean?” you asked again.

“Yeah, right.” He took off the one he was wearing. “All the others are dirty. Well, dirtier than this one.”  
He took a step closer to you and cautiously he put it around your shoulders. His hands trailed down the sleeves, but got back up and rested on the collar of the shirt. Yet his eyes wandered down again.

You really liked Dean. He was attractive, you couldn’t deny it. You could get lost in those green eyes of his, those muscles you get a look at from time to time when he got out of the bathroom and forgot to take his shirt with him, but sometimes his act of a horny teenager got annoying. His pretty face only got him so far.  
You coughed once again. “You mind? I gotta lift my arms to get them in the sleeves.”

Dean smirked. “You got nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“You mean on me,” you raised an eyebrow, “or in general?”

“If you take those arms away I’ll tell you.” His cocky attitude was coming through. If he wanted to play that game, you were in.

“What do I get in return?” You closed the gap between the two of you. Your arms touched his chest.

“Well…” Dean moved his hands to the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it off. “You’ve seen mine, now I get to see yours.”

A small laugh escaped you. “Oh, that’s how it is?” You giggled. “I didn’t know– since when do you wanted to see this?” And you let your arms fall down to your side, revealing your boobs to Dean.

Dean just looked at your chest, then at your face. And back to your chest.  
“Wow.”

“Thank you.” you said.

“Wow, I mean: you really did it. And wow.” Dean’s hands went up your arms and grabbed your shoulders. “So, since your bra is broken, you need a new one, right?”

You remembered that you were angry about that. Yes, you needed a new one, but you couldn’t wear it in the next few days. The cloth would rub against your wound which could get infected. With that all your tight t-shirts were also out of the question. You couldn’t put them on anyway.  
“I guess so, but I can’t wear one now.” You put your arms through the sleeves of Dean’s shirt.

“I can help with that.”

“How?” you questioned. There was no way–

His hands were on your boobs.

You looked him in the eyes, slightly shocked he would do that.

“Better?” he asked with a smile on his face.

“Well, it’s something.” You didn’t know what else to say. That you were surprised he’d go that far? That he even thought of that? You just didn’t know what to say. What you knew was that his hands felt nice on your boobs. His callused fingers were on your soft skin. The pressure was light like a breeze.  
You returned the favour.

Dean looked down at his chest. “That also feels nice.”

“Your man boobs are so big, they also need a bra. So I hold them until you get one.”

You both laughed. Dean let go of your chest and pulled you into a hug. His rising chest vibrated against your head as he pulled you close. You had to remove your hands from his chest and put them around his back. Your own laughter didn’t let you breathe steadily, but after a few moments you calmed down.  
Dean still hold you close pressed against his body. “You’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes you are. You would have never done that if you were sober.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “You never know.”

You readjusted your arms on his back, held him close. Dean did the same and kept one arm around your shoulders, the other pressed your head against his chest. You smelled the sweat from the hunt and faintly the cheap aftershave he used. He should have showered earlier, but your wound needed to be taken care of first.

You stood there for a few minutes, enjoying the silence around you. Yet you really needed to wash yourself, at least the rest of your body besides your shoulder. You tried to get out of the hug, but you met resistance from Dean.

“Dean?” you asked.

“Yes?”

“Do you keep hugging me because my boobs are pressed against you?”

“Shhh, don't ruin it.”


End file.
